Caricom’s next steps

June 9, 2021 

Wesley Gibbings

On August 15, Belizean diplomat, economist, and former politician, Dr Carla Barnett, will take over at the Caricom Secretariat in Georgetown at a time when a combination of all three skillsets of hers, and more, will be required to navigate the integration movement safely through the most perilous period in its 48-year history.

If the pandemic challenge has proven one thing, it is that the brittle post-colonial substructures of the movement require extensive excavation and refurbishment.

This goes beyond the discrete institutional pillars of economic integration, human and social development, foreign policy coordination, and security. For, in the end, all of these would need to be fundamentally repurposed.

They have certainly proven to be near useless in this crisis, not in the direct sense of a role in regional public health coordination through CARPHA, for instance, (though there is a lot to be said here) but as cohesive mechanisms to manage the general well-being of the region at a time of urgent need.

It took 28 years to revise the 1973 Treaty of Chaguaramas. Further changes are needed 20 years later. Among the first tasks would be to reformulate its architecture and to decide who is coming along for the rest of this long ride.

Jamaica has already determined an exit route. The Bahamas has persistently kept at least one foot outside. And Haiti has not always displayed good neighbourliness - whatever our own negligence toward a country whose chaotic entry into the fraternity has never been reconciled.

These three come to mind particularly in the aftermath of last November’s OAS vote on Venezuela when T&T fell victim to a disrespectful, cynical lie. This is hard to forget or to forgive. I have mentioned other disappointments in past columns. This one though …

Meanwhile, the Caricom “travel bubble” popped early because the promise of a greater protective/nurturing mechanism for social, economic, political, and cultural resilience had already ruptured in our faces.

At each turn, it has mostly been everybody for themselves, rendering invalid the prospects for meaningful, joint action in the application of health and travel protocols, the coordinated acquisition of vaccines, and a single, resilient face and voice before the world.

It has also been impossible to tidily compartmentalise even the most specialised functions of the state in addressing a crisis that is taking lives and leaving growing numbers in despair, pain of all varieties, and facing death. How is COVID-19 not as much a regional security question as it is a public health challenge?

In T&T, for instance, we are learning too slowly yet surely that the pandemic is not solely a matter for a ministry of health.

Against such a backdrop, Dr Barnett, together with interested regional leaders, would do well to dispassionately assess all regional options for survival. However, engaging the massive tasks will require institutional assets the Caricom bureaucratic establishment and its associated institutions do not currently possess or are able to harness.

For example, the Caricom Secretariat is not a modern organisation within the meaning of 21^st century institutions of its kind. If Dr Barnett does not understand this, she will go nowhere with any of the aspirations she has already found the time to identify.

By August 15, people in all member states should know her well. It is not in the stock of the professional instincts of public servants to pursue such an objective. Her predecessor proved the point.

But Dr Barnett has fought elections, sat in the senate of Belize, and traded punches with the best during assignments spanning different political administrations. Media shyness will thus not be treated with magnanimity.

She is also a former deputy Secretary-General of Caricom who knows the ins and outs of the Georgetown arrangements.

There is much work to be done. Caricom’s “open regionalism” as a way of engaging the rest of the world is up for frank review. Existing institutions need to be evaluated and rationalised.

There are those out there foolish enough to believe that any of us can set sail on our own or cleave to perceived opportunities not borne out of our own realities. There are others who believe we can make a future for ourselves and generations to come, right here. Dr Barnett has, as part of her unwritten terms of reference, the task of steering countries and people in such a direction.

Rebuilding Competitiveness in Trinidad and Tobago (Guest Contribution)

Dr Terrence Farrell

Economist/Former Deputy Governor of the Central Bank of T&T

The Covid-19 pandemic will cause the demise of some businesses, especially in tourism, hospitality, and personal services.  Other businesses, notably traditional media (newspapers and television) and mobile telephone companies have been under severe pressure for some time due to technological change.  Guardian Media and OCM have seen profitability plunge.  TSTT and Digicel have had to lay off staff.  

These pandemic and technology-related effects apart, this country is witnessing what economists term ‘deindustrialization’, that is where there is more or less rapid attrition of firms in an industry due to loss of competitiveness.  Indeed, deindustrialization is a symptom of loss of competitiveness, whether in manufacturing, agriculture, or in the services sector.

While industrial development is achieved over time periods usually measured in decades, deindustrialization can unfold more quickly depending on how fast competitiveness is eroded and how fast firms recognize and respond to the loss of competitiveness.  Our national competitiveness has been eroding.  The Sugar industry became more uncompetitive into the 1970s and was kept on life support through subsidies for over 30 years after that.  In Manufacturing, it has been eroding anew over the last fifteen years or so.  In the Energy sector, as the era of cheap gas locally has ended, the loss of competitiveness has been of more recent vintage since the shale revolution in the USA.

What is happening now was presaged in the 1970s and early 1980s by the closure of several firms whose competitiveness had been built on import substitution behind protective quotas (Negative List) and tariffs.  Those firms failed to attain sufficient scale in regional or extra-regional markets, and either went out of business (e.g., Neal and Massy’s car assembly plant and the textile manufacturers), decamped elsewhere to get scale economies (e.g., Johnson and Johnson), or eliminated uneconomic product lines (e.g., Nestle and Unilever).  Some manufacturing firms in the Food and Beverage industry were able to survive and grow because they achieved strong market positions in local and regional markets.  

These include Bermudez (biscuits), S M Jaleel (soft drinks), and Associated Brands (chocolates and cereals).  These firms, as well as others with strong local demand, like Carib Breweries and Angostura in alcoholic beverages, and Langston Roach Industries in household cleaning products, benefited from the exchange rate adjustments in 1987 and again in 1993 which improved price competitiveness.  As economic growth and profitability improved in the 1990s, our financial institutions in banking and insurance began their expansion into regional markets, notably, CLICO, Guardian Holdings, Republic Bank, and First Citizens Bank.

We had a long period of improved competitiveness from the early 1990s.  However, we are now into another cycle of deindustrialization similar to the 1970s and early 1980s.  Employment in Manufacturing peaked in 2004 and has declined steadily since.  In Iron and Steel, Arcelor-Mittal departed overnight.  As cheap gas has disappeared, the older, less efficient ammonia plants have been forced to close.   Methanol and ammonia companies are shifting strategically to position their plants here as swing producers and are making any new investments in plants elsewhere where gas prices are lower, and end-markets are closer.  Unilever is basically halting manufacturing here and will become just a distributor.  Nestle’s manufacturing production has been scaled back significantly.  

Our locally-owned Food and Beverage manufacturers have also been making their new investments elsewhere, in Costa Rica (Bermudez), Jamaica (S M Jaleel and Bermudez) and Colombia (Associated Brands).  In financial services, the Canadian banks, Scotia, CIBC, and Royal, have been disinvesting or reshaping their business models as higher regulatory and compliance costs in these small markets with overvalued exchange rates and weak economies are making their businesses less competitive.

Is it possible to revive competitive industries, and how do we do so, beyond public relations visits to factories and pleas for ‘ease of doing business’?  The answer today is more complex than it was in the 1980s because competitiveness is determined by a combination of factors including price, location, technology, logistics, product uniqueness, and the ability to exploit networks in order to access markets.  Price and scale remain critically important and cannot be ignored, even where other factors may, in specific instances, mitigate their effects.  

Firms must learn to innovate, to create unique selling propositions, and to build potentially global brands. However small, they should have the ‘DNA of an elephant’.  Some must learn how to use platforms such as Amazon, Mercadolibre, or Alibaba to penetrate new markets.  They must be allowed, nay encouraged, to invest overseas, regionally, and extra-regionally.

We don’t need all of InvesTT, TTIFC, ETeck, Free Zones Company and ExporTT.   Tasked with implementing some form of the ‘Triple Helix’ belaboured unceasingly by Mary King, one properly resourced government agency must help firms access research and development resources, obtain funding for innovation, collaborate with universities, exploit diasporic and diplomatic networks, and navigate access to developed country markets in the face of what Paschal Lamy has termed their newer ‘precautionary’ barriers around product safety for consumers and environmental protection.

Deindustrialization flows from Dutch Disease and weak, reactive policy making, which combine to erode competitiveness.  Anesthetized by energy sector rents and government subsidies, we may hardly perceive what is unfolding around us.  But if we are to halt and reverse it, we must appreciate what it will take to rebuild competitiveness, and the risks and costs involved.  We need to be single-minded, not superficial, focused, not fickle.  We have a lot of work to do.

The lessons of history

April 14, 2021

Wesley Gibbings

Two months from now, with the advent of the annual hurricane season, the Caribbean region will come face to face with yet another challenge to its resolve to persist as a viable, sovereign geographical space.

We have latterly added to chronic socio-political dysfunctionality, extreme weather events, earthquakes and volcanoes, the unfolding reality of the climate crisis and now, another pandemic.

We’ve been down all these roads before. It is in the natural course of history that nations are tested from time to time to the limits of their endurance. In most instances they prevail. In others they collapse and disappear – if not from internecine disquiet, from the weight of exogenous destructive and predatory forces.

I have more than once attracted considerable vitriol for suggesting that a long review of history witnesses the disappearance of civilisations far greater than ours, and that there is no objective reason why we should be any less vulnerable or more privileged, particularly as small island states.

Following a public lecture on the future of Caribbean media at the Montego Bay Campus of UWI almost exactly five years ago, an angry university student from an OECS nation walked up to me with a telling-off.

I had wondered aloud during my presentation how, given small space and woefully finite natural resources, his country continued to exist as a sovereign state attempting to make it into the future alone – even frequently denying the value of an integrated regional space.

Then, more recently, one T&T journalist was inclined to reference the “tiny island” state of St Vincent and the Grenadines – blissfully unmindful of the context of our own small size and vulnerabilities. I suppose this means we are a “big” island. Steups.

Here we go again, I told one colleague, the “small island” talk that occupies permanent, obsessive space in the minds of ethno-centric commentators, some of whom have emerged in recent days regurgitating the political myth of imported votes 65 years ago.

Meanwhile, not far from our own small island state, the Mayans once thrived throughout the Yucatán Peninsula. When the pandemic storm ends, travel and see for yourself what remains of their legacy. There are other examples. Look them up. Pre-Columbian Tainos. Indus civilisation. The Khmer Empire.

I have also visited the Pacific region more than once. You can look down from your aircraft and see the disappearing atolls. In Tebunginako, Kiribati, the village church stands in the ocean when the tide comes in. Tuvalu - with a vote equal to ours, the United States, Russia, and China individually – is known as a disappearing island.

I have noted to the consternation of many that, in some instances, the continued existence of some of our regional constituents as states flying independence flags challenges several historical norms – whatever the state of self-delusion. That many of our economies defy the meaning of the texts.

Venezuela once thrived as a modern metropolis next door. We visited frequently for tourism, shopping, and the camaraderie of neighbours. Today, it stands testimony to the ravages of political depravity.

There is very little to suggest our own immunity. The quality of the current responses to adjoining tragedies do little to engender optimism that a wholesome approach by all elements is adopted to prepare for challenges beyond immediate pandemic and economic woes.

Desperate Venezuelans fleeing political and economic disaster are “de Venes”. The government is advised “not to bring the Vinceys here.” There were convulsions when Dominicans were invited to rest their weary heads here following Hurricane Maria in 2019. I shall not be apologetic about insisting that all of this has emerged mainly from the same quarters.

Such is the work of vandals, unmindful of our own susceptibilities and many with one foot planted outside home terrain, who applaud each pandemic misstep and have led the way with everything from early COVID denial to current vaccination hesitancy.  

None of this suggests meek compliance with authority or silence on breaches of rights, proper political behaviour, or plain common sense.

But what we have been witnessing reeks of a sense of invulnerability and privilege. Two weeks ago, someone was declaring the demise of Caricom. Today, an empathetic regional response can make the difference between life and death. Just saying.

 

 

CARICOM'S COVID CO-MORBIDITIES

March 31, 2021

Nothing like a pandemic to expose brittle institutions, shatter developmental delusion, and test the mettle of leadership at all levels.

We’ve been here before. But not as independent states attempting to make our own way in the world, employing our own structures of governance.

Prof. David Killingray’s 1994 paper on The Influenza Pandemic of 1918-1919 in the British Caribbean captures the nature and scale of the tragedy – 100,000 dead between October 1918 and March 1919.

Despite relatively centralised colonial rule at the top, the collective regional response was disparate and reliant on territorial peculiarities and preferences. Unilateralism prevailed. Uneven application of measures was the norm.

So, as a region we have a history of this sort of thing. The integration movement – even when directed by the colonials – was an attempt to address fragmented approaches to both issues of life and death and broader developmental aspirations, while recognising self-interest and individual will.

There is a lot more between this introduction and the conclusions I offer here, but that’s for the academics. This is a newspaper column.

So, we as a region have always been challenged by the fact that we do not represent a political or socio-cultural monolith. Successive reviews of the integration project have noted the anomalies. Much more than now dated recognition of MDCs and LDCs, developed and under-developed sectors, have been important socio-cultural dynamics.

Come now to a collective response to a pandemic, and there are lessons of 1918-1919 to be learned. As national governments, CARPHA, the Caricom Secretariat and other institutions realised early that coordinated COVID-19 management is no simple task. The “Caricom Bubble” never materialised, for example. The Gavi Vaccine Alliance, which informed the COVAX process, determined a hierarchy.

Not entirely unrelated to all this, are the co-morbidities of existing institutions that are expected to take us through a challenging, if not epochal period.

That said, I for one, consider news of Caricom’s passing to be wildly exaggerated – even coming from a politician of sturdy pedigree. It is unbelievable hyperbole to consider the OAS fiasco over Venezuela a matter of terminal significance.

Mr (not Dr) Gonsalves must have paid insufficient attention to Dr Gonsalves’ vast compendium of grandiloquent accolades supportive of a “maturation process of … Caribbean Civilisation.” It would however be tragically ironic if such a conclusion emerged from pandemic home schooling.

The fact is, Caricom was not found to be dead upon the arrival of the pandemic. Neither has it been lifeless against the geo-political challenge of a failed neighbouring state. It is in the nature of this business to disagree, and sometimes to even not wish each other well.

The EU assembles a group comprising people who once killed one another. The AU is hardly a pillar of internal peace. These arrangements all leave space for infidelity, separation, and even divorce. The Bahamas, Haiti and Jamaica know that very well.

All of this, though, is not to diminish Caricom’s pre-existing institutional ailments. I have contended, to the chagrin of some, that the Caricom Secretariat needs to substantially up its game. The transition in August to a new Secretary General provides an opportunity to begin the process. The required credentials, as I have said before, exceed bureaucratic competencies. Some potential contestants have emerged. I believe there is room for more aspirants.

There are also issues associated with two other key institutions – UWI and CWI. Now, don’t get me wrong. I still think that within the context of Caricom of 2021, these are two peripheral areas of regional engagement. More so, cricket, than the university. But they are important to us in most Caricom states.

It cannot be of comfort to anyone that the imbroglio over tidying things at UWI is now a hotbed of high-level gossip, rumour, and ad hominem attack. Lost in the debate is the fact that so many things about this institution are in desperate need of repair. I, for one, am paying absolutely no attention to platitude or fancy talk. Neither, I am certain, are most students, administrative staff, and faculty.

Look now at CWI – as I have said before, of virtually no significance to at least four of Caricom’s 15 member states, and of rapidly declining importance to people who never saw Clive Lloyd bat. Same thing.

In these pandemic times, co-morbidities matter. The institutions for joint action are not all healthy. But death is not an option.

Colin Robinson's Unequal Opportunity

March 24, 2021

Colin Robinson wasn’t easy. We disagreed (at first) on what I considered to be the inalienable connection between freedom of expression and LGBTQ+ rights. But never quite settled differences of opinion on marriage equality, which I support entirely, and which he did not consider to be a key part of the current struggle.

Then my son, Mikhail, got me ‘You Have Your Father Hard Head’, Colin’s collection of poems. “To enable my citizenship,” he wrote in ‘NYCitizen’, “I cannot act alone.”

I had by then written repeatedly about the fact that the Equal Opportunity Act explicitly denies redress based on “sexual preference or orientation.” I had said it out loud at more than one consultation. This was a challenge for all of us. We could not act alone.

Why? As Colin quoted me as saying in 2018: Among Caribbean people who, for the most part, embarked on a future on the basis of legislated freedoms, “there exists an instinctual aversion to the notion that freedom is superior to prohibition.”

On that subject, he credited me with “putting words to (his) fury.” It was both flattering and a reminder of what he by then considered to be a relatively distant but joint enterprise.

The last time we met was on a flight back home from Jamaica in late 2019. He’d stored his luggage in the overhead compartment over my seat. When we landed at Piarco, I got up quickly as he weaved his way to the back, as I warned him, “before you buss my head with that bag.”

As we stood and blocked steupsing people in the aisle, he expressed abstruse fear for his well-being. I had seen expressive anger and joy on his face before, but never the sadness I detected in his eyes – even through the glitter in his thick glasses. He could not have missed my own gloom.

This has taken some time. Colin passed on March 4. We weren’t really “close”, so I have not been on the inside loop. Things have also been busy. We’ve been having a pandemic and an ensuing infodemic to address.

The EOC responded quickly to news of his passing. Vice chairman Dr Gabrielle Hosein declared less than a day later that the EOC “walks in the footsteps of giants like Colin and we continue to work in his memory for justice.”

The EOA was something we discussed far less frequently than the broader question of constitutional protections and the public language that helped express a sometimes-deadly hate agenda against the LGBTQ+ community in the Caribbean.

The fact is the 2000 Act is but one of several frontiers and, even so, had footsteps of its own, with metrics and concerns that had little to do with the issues that occupied Colin and his allies.

Read the Hansard of May 19 and June 2, 2000, when the EOA was being debated. You would realise that the political backdrop to the introduction of the EOA, whatever the eventual add-ons, was the need to protect Africans and Indians from one another. Such was the politics of the day. Such is the politics today.

Then opposition MP, Barry Sinanan, was the only member of the House to address this outrageously explicit omission from protection under the new law.

“In any society you have people who are different from others, so we have homosexuals, and we have lesbians, and this is a fact that we must recognise in any progressive country,” Sinanan said. There was no follow-up during the debate from either his colleagues or from government speakers, including then prime minister Basdeo Panday who had piloted the bill.

There are a few things in this country for which there is apparent bipartisan support and this, clearly, has been one. Even a public health crisis has not reached this level of agreement across the political divide.

From what I understand, there isn’t much work left to be done though. Former EOC chairman Lynette Seebaran-Suite and her team have done most of it.

Current EOC chairman, Ian Roach, has recently been concerned about racist commentary on social media. The politicians have their eyes on him. Colin’s footprints persist. Work in his memory remains incomplete.

 

The hierarchy of disagreement

It is now exactly 13 years since the UK/US writer, Dr Paul Graham, came up with his visionary “hierarchy of disagreement.”

At the apex of Graham’s hierarchical pyramid is refutation. At the murky bottom, you find ad hominem attack and name-calling.

It is not unique to social media, but if you scan the main platforms many of us now spend hours upon hours engaging daily, you will catch the general drift of Graham’s assertions.

Witness a hypothetical structure with refutation at the top, followed by counterargument, contradiction, responses to “tone”, ad hominem attack and, at the very base, name-calling, insult, and innuendo. Many times, though, the pyramid is inverted.

We see it over and over. Someone posts something she considers to be a reasonable observation on a matter of public interest and there is speedy reference to an unflattering physical or emotional attribute.

Sometimes lies, ridicule, and defamation emerge out of the blue almost as a pre-emptive assault. Journalists and others in the public eye experience this all the time. I have heard, for example, that I am “a CIA.” This, I suppose, disentitles me to say or write anything credible about China, Venezuela, Russia, the OAS, Caricom or hotdogs.

Sadly, our political parties do not routinely set the best example. Loyal trolls, without caution of any kind from leaders, help by amplifying race-baiting, childish name-calling and outright disinformation introduced via dispatches often bearing official seals.

On Saturday, for example, T&T Guardian’s Gail Alexander provided a glossary of terms from the contemporary UNC information engine room: “deadbeats”, “muppets”, “shameless”, “conman”, “dithering nincompoop”, “comatose”, “flaccid” (!), “rogue” and “lame”.

Only the day before, the PNM Women’s League described its UNC counterpart outfit as “a house of ill-repute.”

But, back to Graham and others who have explored his thesis. It is par for the course that people appear far more motivated to engage an assertion when they disagree with it.

People like me, who tightly control our friends’ lists on Facebook but leave ourselves out in the open on Instagram or Twitter, can tell the difference.

For example, you more frequently see “likes” and favourable comments among members of your self-constructed echo chambers than you would with accounts that operate out in the wild.

Additionally, people you attract as online “followers” or “friends” are highly likely to share the same values as you. For instance, I do not regularly have to respond to people who are openly opposed to gender equality, reproductive rights, or freedom of expression and the press. But I know other types are out there in large numbers and very actively engaged in undermining these positions.

There are also, of course, taboo areas sensible people generally avoid because they tend to tacitly invite irrational discourse. These may include issues associated with organised religion, political ideology, and race relations.

On these and other issues, as suggested by Graham, your “tone” rather than the arguments themselves can become the focus of concern. “I can’t believe you are so dismissive and condescending when it comes to the anti-vaxxers.”

“A man/woman like you …” is not an infrequent form of tone-based counterargument and constitutes a variant of what is often referred to in the behavioural sciences as “passive aggression.”

It is preferable if an error or display of illogic is addressed in an informed and direct manner rather than through innuendo or insult. “He is a PNM” or “He is a UNC.”

This is not to say you cannot, with some experience and street smarts, spot a political hack from a mile cloaked in passive aggression. My preference is to avoid them at all costs, including the penalties your ego pays.

Striking back cleverly through parody or satire or even “throwing words” is well within bounds. But they frequently miss the mark. Leave them alone. Or write an entire newspaper column as a technical diss.

Parliament and the hustings also provide no best practice examples. There you find the inverted pyramid exemplified. But while politics is no tea party it is also not a “zess” where the one who wines down lowest prevails.

 

 

Some Caricom Tidying Needed

Caricom and the West Indian Caribbean

Wesley Gibbings

Two things. Firstly, what possessed Caricom leaders at last week’s Inter-Sessional meeting, to contemplate the rebranding of joint tourism as something “West Indian” and not as “Caribbean”, as currently holds?

Secondly, and not unrelatedly, who is there to occupy the soon to be vacated seat of Secretary-General of Caricom?

Dominica PM Roosevelt Skerritt’s precise words at last week’s post-summit press conference were: “We need to create a West Indies brand, as was indicated by the prime minister of Saint Lucia (Allen Chastanet), we are known as the West Indies … University of the West Indies … West Indies cricket … and I think it is important for us to start promoting this definition of ourselves as the West Indies, rather than the Caribbean which extends well beyond the Caricom grouping.”

Who is going to break this news to Martinique, Sint Maarten, Puerto Rico and other members of the Caribbean(!) Tourism Organization to whom neither cricket nor UWI means anything? Who is going to explain to Caricom members such as The Bahamas, Belize, Haiti and Suriname that promotion of the tourism product is about to be reconfigured in keeping with the reputations of two institutions that mean so little to them?

Nobody appears to have recalled how 30 years ago the “West Indian Commission” had proposed the calibration of wider regional identities to embrace a notion of a single Caribbean space to best pursue developmental objectives. The Association of Caribbean States – comprising 25 states (not all “washed by the Caribbean Sea”) was one product of the exercise.

Hopefully the Caricom Secretariat did not have to pay some “expert” to formulate that “West Indies” suggestion last week. If T&T helped pay the bill, as a citizen I wish to apply to get our money back.

Of course, while membership of both Haiti and Suriname was underway, I recall (as a Caricom employee then) the cognitive dissonance - different language groups, bureaucratic practices, and historical habits and systems. That was part of the deal. The then Secretary General Edwin Carrington was preaching a sermon of “open regionalism” and “widening” not only as economic imperatives, but as pillars of the needed socio-cultural dynamism.

So, when the ACS (which, incidentally, administers a sustainable tourism programme) came in 1994, there was at minimum a conceptual framework abroad – via the work of the WI Commission and through Carrington’s aggressive diplomacy on this – that embraced the idea of a “wider Caribbean” – mismatches, administrative pimples and all.

PM Skerritt’s two minutes and 30 seconds at the presser last week raised questions about all of this. I cannot say I wish this proposal the very best.

The second thing is the fact that a replacement for outgoing Caricom Secretary-General, Irwin LaRocque, is due in August. This means that by the time Caricom heads meet again – probably face-to-face in Antigua in July – a single consensus candidate would have already emerged. In that event, the process will not end in acrimony as was recently the case with the Pacific Forum.

Foreign and Caricom affairs minister Amery Browne, when consulted by me on this, recalled that a T&T diplomat has held the post “multiple times” – actually it’s twice. This may or may not suggest that a candidate from T&T will be in the running.

He however added that “for the first time a specific process has been approved by Heads for such a recruitment.” The two names currently being floated are not highly impressive given the urgent requirements of the day.

The member countries should only consider candidates who bring a combination of technical, bureaucratic competence, political savvy, and real leadership to the job.

LaRocque was undoubtedly a superb public servant but was no Carrington, Demas or McIntyre who were charismatic, confident, and capable managers of complex regional political dynamics. By the way, and no Googling, who is the current deputy secretary general of Caricom?

Whoever gets the top job, his/her skill set would need to exceed mere bureaucratic orderliness and faithful reporting. The “West Indies” madness, as just one example, ought not to have reached this far. The Caricom Secretariat needs to be modernised and re-focused. Our regional institutions, as indispensable as they are, need tidying up. Our future hinges on these things. These are special times.

First published in the T&T Guardian on March 3, 2021